1 min read
Слушать(AI)Portsmouths Looking Glass
Methinks I see you, newly
From your embroider'd Bed and pissing,
With studied mien and much grimace,
Present yourself before your glass,
To vanish and smooth o'er those graces,
You rubb'd off in your Night Embraces.
Lord John Wilmot
Lord John Wilmot. 1 апреля 1647 — 26 июля 1680. Один из наиболее значительных английских поэтов эпохи Реставрации. Известен главным образом как
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Dying Lover
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain that sighs for you, For you alone was born
Against Constancy
Tell me no more of constancy, The frivolous Of old age, narrow jealousy, Disease, and want of sense
The Mistress
An age in her embraces Would seem a winter's day; When life and light, with envious haste, Are torn and snatched away
To This Moment a Rebel
To this moment a rebel I throw down my arms, Great Love, at first sight of Olinda's bright charms Make proud and secure by such forces as these, You may now play the tyrant as soon as you please